


Where We Go

by dustbunnyprophet



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Guilt, Homophobia, I REGRET NOTHING, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Post-Break Up, this boys will suffer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-06
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-11-09 20:54:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11112693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dustbunnyprophet/pseuds/dustbunnyprophet
Summary: Jean was getting married in four months. But it was not his future wife who lingered on the forefront of his mind, and the back of his heart.And the guilt tasted like bile on his tongue.But Seung-gil had made his choice. Skating had been, and still was more important. More important than Jean.And how could he blame him?





	Where We Go

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Seung-gil's birthday!

Emotions were stuck in Seung-gil’s throat like a fishbone, tearing him from the inside, and aching aching aching so bad he almost forgot where he was. His fingers gripped the phone, and as he stared at the now dark screen he almost forgot he should _not_ be feeling this. He should not. It had been two years, and he had moved on. Even _Jean_ had moved on.

Seung-gil swallowed, trying to to push the lump which was rising in his throat. The past was long gone, buried in teenage foolishness and stolen kisses, it was too late to to feel _this_. He had felt it enough. He had spent too many sleepless nights rolling in his bed and thinking, musing, calculating, but no matter which side he had analised the problem from, there had been no optimal solution. Nothing but this. And Seung-gil had made his choice. Skating had been, and still was more important. More important than Jean. Giving him up had hurt like nothing before, but it was a sacrifice he had done willingly. Even if it had broken his heart to see Jean’s expression in that moment.

He could still recall it with aching clarity, as if it had only been a day, and not two whole years since. The way something had dimmed in those blue eyes of his. And it had been wrong, wrong, wrong. It had hurt to let him go, but it had been nothing in comparison to seeing his own pain reflected in Jean’s face. He was made for smiles, grins, playful winks. He was made of light, and warmth, and energy coursing through him, bubbling out of his words, his actions. He was unstoppable.

Not that day. That day in Montreal, sitting on the steps of his dorm, Jean had been small, and broken. And it had all been Seung-gil’s fault.

Maybe he should have lied to him, told him he was no longer interested, given him a reason, any reason but the truth. But Seung-gil had never been prone to falsehood. So instead of sugar coating the ugly truth he had told it the way it had been, that he had no choice in the matter, that his family would stop supporting him if they caught wind of their only son being gay. That it was only a matter of time before someone found out about them. And no financial support meant no skating.

It had never been a fair match. Jean had been poised to lose from the very start. And maybe, just maybe Seung-gil should have been smarter, should have never allowed it to get to that point.

Crying over spilt milk. Only Seung-gil had no tears to shed. Those had been all in Jean’s eyes, that day, and Seung-gil had not allowed himself to cry. He did not deserve this privilege.

It had been two years ago. And now Jean was smiling in a photo, _that_ photo which Seung-gil had stumbled upon on instagram, and he was proudly showing the ring on his fiancée’s finger to the camera. And Seung-gil felt like someone was ripping him apart, pulling his heartstrings until there was nothing but a pulp of pain and jealousy and resentment where his heart had previously been.

And memories, so many memories. Of spring days spent sitting on the dewy grass and holding each other’s hands, Jean’s tan skin so stark in contrast to Seung-gil’s pallor. Of tentative kisses over a picnic blanket, his heart hammering loudly loudly in his chest, threatening to burst out, and the feel of Jean’s beating at the same pace under Seung-gil’s palm. Of stolen looks and stolen touches in locker rooms, sweaty and hollowed out after having spilled their souls on the ice. And then shared hotel rooms, falling asleep tangled with Jean, the younger teen gripping him tight against him in the narrow twin bed. Of the heat radiating from his perfect, beautiful body, wrapping Seung-gil, aching muscles and strained limbs, the effort of the competition mingling with that sweeter ache which spread through his body in the aftermath of their own little celebration.

It was gone, all gone.

Seung-gil unlocked the screen and looked at the engagement ring. It shone, like the smiles both Jean and his fiancée sported. It hurt. He looked at the way Jean’s eyes crinkled, at the happiness in his grin, and it hurt. Because in spite of all the efforts he had made to bury the past, Jean was still lodged in a snug corner of his chest, stuck between his aching heart and his knotted lungs. It may had been two years, two long and eventful years, but nothing had changed for Seung-gil.

He still loved him.

 

 

Jean did a quadruple loop. Seung-gil was watching the free skate in Barcelona on his laptop and his lips pulled in an involuntary smile. Because for a moment it was almost like being back in Juniors and the younger skater was sending him a message. Like they had used to do back in the day, stealing each other’s jumps and moves to shout out the emotions which had used to buzz between them, sizzling like electricity. It had been their way to wink at each other, to tease, to  apologise. To say I love you. And as Seung-gil watched Jean nail his quad, he could delude himself for a heartbeat that it meant something. That it was not just Jean mastering an opponent’s skill. Landing a jump another skater had ratified before him. That it was not coincidental it was Seung-gil’s jump he had just performed.

But even as his heart picked pace, reality crushed him with all the weight of the choices he had made, and the memory of that instagram picture resurfaced. Jean was getting married. He was happy, he had moved on. Like Seung-gil should have. And this, this was only a jump. Nothing more.

Gyeong rubbed her snout on his hand, and he petted her, burying his fingers in her fur and trying to ease the knot which was growing tighter and tighter around his windpipe. He watched Jean skate, and it was beautiful. It was perfect.

It made his heart race.

 

 

Jean added a quad loop to his free skate. He knew it was silly, and pointless, but he had to say goodbye. He had to. Because Jean was getting married in four months. He was getting married and he had to sever his ties to the past. He had to find some closure.

It had been two years, and he was getting married. But it was not his future wife who lingered on the forefront of his mind, and the back of his heart. And the guilt tasted like bile on his tongue.

But no matter how much he tried there were so many things which made memories of Seung-gil resurface. Small, inconsequential details like the way a towel was folded, or the taste of black coffee. The sight of Jean’s old sweater which he had borrowed him once threw him back to that winter day. He could still perfectly remember how well had red looked with Seung-gil pale complexion. He could recall the blush that had risen to his cheeks when Jean had voiced that particular observation, and how the sight had made Jean’s heart thrum. It had been before they had gotten together, in the long months of dancing around each other, stealing glances and cradling hopes.

There were a thousand things that brought back memories, and with them always came the ache under his sternum. And Jean knew it was long past the time to make peace with it, with the fact Seung-gil had chosen to leave him behind. But he couldn’t. Each time he tried there was something reminding him how happy he had been in those brief eight months. And a small voice whispered callously that he had never been so happy afterwards. That the best memories he had made with Isabella were nothing in comparison. Nothing.

But Seung-gil had made his choice, and there was nothing Jean could do but try and be happy. He did not blame him. How could he? It had been his skating career on the line, would Jean have chosen any different?

He shook his head, wiping away the sweat from his brow. He knew the answer to that particular question, and he was glad he had never had to make such a choice. Even if it hurt terribly. Even if he could not forget, and wished those eight months had lasted forever.

But they hadn’t and Jean was getting married.

He needed to say goodbye.

So Jean had jumped a quad loop and hoped, prayed it was going to be enough to bring him closure.

 

 

It didn’t.

The Four Continents were approaching and Jean couldn’t contain the excitement at the prospect of flying to Gangneung for the competition, even as his stomach squirmed, and bile rose up his gullet. Because he couldn’t stop his heartbeat from picking pace whenever he thought about competing against Seung-gil. About seeing him.

It was defeating.

It made guilt ripple under his skin. Isabella cheering for him, telling him he was going to win. Telling him she loved him. Her ring shining in the winter sunlight. And Jean swallowing down the knot of unease. Of guilt guilt guilt. It made him sick when he thought how he was _lying_ to her. How none of his _I love you_ had ever meant the same they had meant when he had whispered them on Seung-gil’s skin. How nothing could compare to him. And it was unfair. It had been two years. He wanted to be happy. He wanted to make Isabella happy. Start a family, and move on.

But Seung-gil’s face lingered on the fringe of his thoughts, and knowing he was going to see him brought the same frisson of excitement he had felt before the Rostelecom Cup. He had skated like never before, riding the high of his excitement, and allowing himself to feel joy. Guilt had come later. And Jean couldn’t escape the ugly thought that it had been that which had prompted him to propose to Izzy. It made his stomach roll, and his hands start to shake the same way they had shook in Barcelona.

It was wrong.

It was fundamentally wrong, clashing against everything he believed in, and he found himself shaking his head above his open luggage.

What was he doing?

Getting married to a woman he cared for, deeply, unconditionally, but whom he didn’t love.He couldn’t love her. Not when Seung-gil still made his heart hammer in anticipation, and his palms sweat. She could never compare to him. And it was defeating to acknowledge that. Did he really wanted to do this to himself? To Isabella?

Did he?

Sitting there, packing his luggage for the Four Continents, Jean didn’t know.

 


End file.
